The Secret Life of Annabelle Croix
by JohnnyFrost
Summary: There have been many legends and rumors, but only a few have been true. So how did a slightly unhinged, fire-maniacal merchant's daughter become the Dragonborn...the great heroine of Skyrim? Many wise men have said, "You wouldn't believe it, if I told you..."
1. Skyrim Hospitality

*Author's Note: This is the first time I've done a fanfic for Skyrim, and it's been awhile since I've written anything major. Some might not like how I started the way I did, but this its unique own story interwoven with certain main quests. I'm not that familiar with all the lore of Skyrim, I just want to write the best possible story I can. I hope you enjoy it and and feedback will be much appreciated.

Chapter 1 - Skyrim Hospitality

I was a long way from High Rock. Twenty one years of life were about to end. So many things happened since Mother and I fled that land. We spent a year hiding from my father and I ended up prepared to die regardless. Our long midnight locks cut short to hide our appearances. Yet no matter how hard I tried, those three scars on my face could never be removed. Not it mattered in Helgen. My hands were tied as I sat in a cart with three other fellow captives.

Someone might have thought I was someone important to be captured by the Empire. I shared the cart with this...Jarl Ulfric; a man I seriously hated at that particular point in time. Not as much as my father; at least this Ulfric and I both made mistakes based on ignorance. There was Ralof, who I was still angry at for his inconvenient laughter when he saw me naked as a baby in the arresting hands of the Legionnaires. At least one of them had the decency to give me some worn clothes to wear. The last man was someone I didn't remember or care to remember. He was just some horse thief they picked up along the way. Frankly, I couldn't blame him for being angry at the other two men I shared the cart with.

My companion-in-chains spoke spun a long ballad about the town and some girl he knew once upon a time. As for Helgen's beginning...it was probably a Nord who named it after his pale, unattractive wife when they found this place. That is, after wondering around like the blathering idiots they probably were and winding up in a place that anyone could find assuming they had common sense. Would it have made any difference if they'd executed us in the Imperial City? What did it matter to my father if I died here instead of in Evermore?

They told us to get out of the wagons, and we did. We were all dead. It was going to be the end of my short life; a life that consisted of a shop, a farm, the most unusual first love, my dead sister, my mother's magic lessons, and that...tournament.

That damnable tournament. Then there was the grand finale; my father losing his damned mind and sending trained killers after me and mother. Mine was not exactly a charmed life.

They forced us into lines and a helmet-less Legion soldier read the names of the condemned men. Next to him was a tall female Legate. The fourth man in our cart tried to run. He said he was from Rorikstead or some place. He didn't get far. I would have ran, but I found a better way to embarrass myself.

"Who are you?" the man asked. I answered as if I'd had too many sweetrolls.

"I am Annabelle Croix, daughter of Sophia Croix. I have no ties with these...Stormcloaks. You people really should investigate my father...he's trying to kill me you know?!"

I did notice Ralof lowering his head. If he had his hands free, his forehead would have been in his palm. But, as I continued my rambling, I hoped these Imperials would realize it was all a misunderstanding.

"I was just trying to bathe, you see? I hadn't washed in like three weeks, which for a woman is just... unnecessary. Unsophisticated. Un..seemly. Un..."

"Thanks...that'll do Breton." he said. "Legate, ma'am, what do we do with her? She's not on the list."

The male seemed a reasonable sort.

The Legate only had cruel eyes and her response was quick, "She goes to the block." I never forgot those words.

The other man reassured me that my remains would be sent to High Rock. My blood boiled right then. Giving my father and his friends that satisfaction was unacceptable. If was going to die, I was going to be on MY terms. I still had that right, at least.

"You can send my ashes back to Bruma, and while you're there, you might want to pay my mother a visit and tell her why you killed a perfectly innocent woman!" I roared at the pair.

There was nothing but rage. I tried to move my hands, but the Imperials made quite sure they were secured. As I quickly learned, it seems Ulfric was given a similar treatment. The soldiers must have assumed that we were extremely dangerous.

And they were right. This General Tullius, if I remember right, spoke to Ulfric about a power called the Voice. Whatever it was, it had to be greater than anything me or my mother knew. He used it, apparently, to kill the High King of Skyrim.

With that knowledge, there was only despair left. There was no way out. I'd failed mother. I'd failed my sister. And somewhere, my insane father would laugh once it was all said and done.

My mother kept a shrine to Julianos in the back of her shop. She said very little about her life before she married my father. She was damn good at it though. Some of the local soldiers back home knew. They once called her Sophia the Great. She was an even fifty summers, yet had much youth in her features. When my father did his work for the Count, me and mother ran the adventurer's shop she opened after my sister died at six years old. Every morning, we prayed to that shrine of Julianos.

I prayed to him again, as I was led to my execution; the pitiful end of my life.

How did this happen?

I'm going to say this. There was a time, not so long ago when I didn't have a problem with the Imperials. The Empire was a good thing, I was told. I never once thought the Empire was a corrupt entity that had to be brought down with sanctified wrath. My family was too busy trying to get by everyday in the Count lands, just like everyone else.

The Empire was just part of everyday life. So, a year after me and my mother fled High Rock...at no point during all those back alley magic lessons and pickpocket schemes did anyone bother to inform us that a lot of people in Skyrim didn't think that way! We had our hands full evading my father's men, doing odd jobs for the local Thieves Guild for much needed coin, and setting bandits on fire from the deserts of Hammerfell to the Colovian Highlands. We heard rumors, but little hard evidence. Apparently, the High King was dead and it was a big deal. Thalmor? The last I checked they weren't accosting Julianos worshipers. Stormcloaks? Who were they? I received a quick education.

I ran back through it in my mind. When I arrived in Skyrim, I learned the map was a bit inaccurate as I ended up farther off than I'd hoped. I was supposed to end up in this place called...Falkreath. Instead, I ended up crossing paths with a small battalion of soldiers camped out at a place called Darkwater Crossing apparently.

Ulfric Stormcloak was rather cordial to me. The rank and file...not so much. It's not that they were completely rude, just completely juvenile. It was almost like they hadn't seen a woman in months...which wasn't true because there were a few women among them. To be fair though, as much as most men annoyed me, I couldn't blame them; none of these women were exactly lookers. These Stormcloak women looked like their faces had been melted off by a Shock spell.

Ulfric gave this rousing speech to his men the night before it all went to mammoth excrement. I have to admit, I was moved. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't about to run off and join the fight to "free Skyrim".

I had only two objectives when I crossed the border. One, find the College of Winterhold and my mother's friend of a friend...this Mirabelle. Two, investigate this...Dark Brotherhood. Mother and I had a debt to settle with them. I decided to turn in after this Jarl Ulfric was done. They were on their way back to the city of Windhelm. It was a stone's throw away from Winterhold, someone said, One of the other soldiers, Ralof, stopped me and offered me a drink.

"You may not be a Nord, but there's no reason you can't enjoy a little Skyrim hospitality." he said.

He seemed a bit different than some of the drunken idiots he called comrades. Definitely fit though...not interested, but fit nonetheless. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't refuse.

_One drink, one drink. Don't rush it. Drink your drink. Say good night, good sir, and walk away. _And I did.

The final thing I remembered was the ultimate humiliation the morning after. Now, for most people, that would be waking up next a giant spider...or the wrong man or woman. I've woken up quite a few times to all three scenarios. What happened that morning was one of the great, all time embarrassing things I'd ever experienced in my life. The Imperials raided the camp, killed many of the soldiers, and captured the rest. Including me. When I was bathing...

Ralof tried to sneak a peek at me as they handed me some clothes to wear.

"Is this what you call Skyrim hospitality, Ralof?!" I spat back.

Define humiliation: being forced to dress in front of men at sword point. There were dock girls in Anvil who received better treatment than that. With that, whatever love I had for the Legion died.

...The first man to die wanted it over quick. I couldn't hold back though. I felt tears seep out my eyes for the first time since I was locked in that prison cell in Castle. However, there was this...odd sound in the sky. It stopped everyone. At that moment, though...it never occurred to me it was something out of my nightmares. This entire farce of an execution, my father's madness, my home so far away, and all I could was cry like a little girl. The anger was gone as my eyes watered and I couldn't wipe them away. Tullius wanted it over and done with, the Legate even more so. It was almost like she had it out for me. The reasonable Legate told me to go nice and slow, as if there was any other way!

As they put me down on the block. I looked up at the sky. Tears must have glistened from the sun's rays. That distant sound, however, came back. I imagined my eyes were held open by other hands...as I looked up and a beast came from the sky, black as night, wings unfurled, and a face filled with death. It looked right at me. It roared, the ground shook and I found myself face first in the sky came asunder and everyone shouted in fear but me.

They called it a Dragon.

Ralof had said, "the gods wouldn't give us another chance." In that case, I took his advice and ran like my legs were on fire. Actually, in that case, I think they were at one point. I ran into the nearest place I could, a tower nearby. I'd seen it when I jumped off the wagon, never thought I'd be running from a mythical creature and using it as shelter. They brought me to Helgen to be executed for the crimes of others. As rolled around on the floor of a ruined tower, in a embarrassing attempt to put out my smoke-filled clothes, a part of me knew I would die anyway. The question was how. Would the Dark Brotherhood finally track me down? Would my father? Would the Imperials find me and finish the job? Then, out of nowhere, my mother's voice came into my head. _No...not here_, I thought.

_Get up Belle...GET UP!_

No, I couldn't let her down. It was too soon. It was a struggle, but rolled over with my bound hands...and I got off the damn floor.

Next – Chapter 2: Brave New World


	2. Brave New World

Chapter 2: Brave New World

It was a miracle I even made it to the tower.

The soldiers scrambled around, falling over their own men as they tried to attack the monster. Bursts of fire seared my skin a little, and I could barely see where I was going. Initially, it seemed the no-so-good townspeople of Helgen were on their own. I'm not a heartless woman, but that one old woman I saw get skewered by the dragon...she deserved it. I mean, she threw an apple at me. It was a waste a perfectly good apple! If she threw a melon at me, then I'd be impressed.

Once inside, I saw Ralof socializing about legends with Ulfric. I wasn't angry at him anymore. I tried to make sense of it all; how did this happen? A legend come to life? Ulfric did say one thing to that end, "Legends don't burn down villages."

If that was the case, then truer words were never spoken. I ran up the stairs and one of the Stormcloaks tried to move some rubble out of the way. That is...until the dragon's head broke through the wall! The poor rebel was knocked off the stairs to his death, and I would have fell myself had Ralof not caught me. We jumped down onto a partially burning roof. The Stormcloaks overcame the two Imperial soldiers inside, and noticed the plethrora of equipment inside. Lucky us, the Legion troops outside were preoccupied with not dying by dragon's breath...and failing miserably.

Inside the house were some weapons, apparently the place was a general store of some kind. The Stormcloak's own leader was the last to arrive. Ralof cut my bonds with an Imperial sword and threw it to Ulfric. Near the destroyed wall was the dismembered body of a third soldier, a woman. If the dress fits...

I relieved the poor Imperial of her clothes as I tore off my rags. Sure the woman's legs had been torn off, but the blood was only on the bottom of the robe. I didn't care about anything else. As I tried to hike the robe over my head, some of the others, especially Ralof and surprisingly the only female survivor, stared at me for a moment.

"Get a good look?" I said with a smile, yet dripped with acid. Some of the men snickered. Ulfric, thank the gods, wasn't looking at me. He peeked out the window trying to see where the Imperials were. I finally forced my way into the robes and Ulfric gathered the prison break outfit together.

"To freedom!" Ulfric shouted, "Spread out! Let nothing stand in our way!"

Freedom. I didn't really care about the Stormcloaks' cause...but the moment I filled my hands with fire, that was when I knew I was free. And suddenly, as I ran out into the chaos...I felt very small. I burned my way to the exit. I was free from the Imperials; freedom from the Dark Brotherhood, my father, and the coterie he worked for...that was a different story altogether.

The dragon would only have had better timing if it showed up a year and half ago in the Count's castle. Honestly, I don't know what was worse, being dragged naked from the lake accused of being a Stormcloak or facing those horrific, lewd looks in the Count's main hall as they paraded us around in scant clothing for his amusement.

Giles Roseni, my father, was in attendance that day. I will never forget that bawdy smile he had on his face. This was his little girl, his little Buttercup, having to degrade herself just so HE could live the high life. The expression on my father's face as a dragon burned him alive would have been worth all the gold in Daggerfall.

It took some time, but we managed to escape the chaos of Helgen. I stepped out of that cave and into the bright morning air. Above us though, the black flying monster, the dragon, tore the air above us and was gone onto the horizon. The massive mountain in front of us was a beautiful sight, as the trees and flowers that lined the small trail where Ralof and I stood. He offered the suggestion we split up.

I swore Ralof said something about going to Riverwood to meet his sister Gerdur. I agreed with that. Then there was something about joining the Stormcloaks or "the fight to free Skyrim" or something. I did not agree with that. The sound of bushes and my running was protest to that. After all, a thousand leagues between me and the Imperials was an excellent idea. I ran all the way to Riverwood after that. Well, not all the way; I mean, I had to catch my breath a few times.

By the time Ralof got to Riverwood, I was hunched over on the side of Gerdur's mill. As I gasped for air, all he could do was laugh. He took me to his sister and began discussing matters I already knew about or didn't care to know. I almost walked off, I was so bored and tired of listening to painfully obvious things about a gigantic dragon I already saw and survived.

After I got some mead in me, my mood was a little better. Mead was the Nord's cause of and solution to all life's problems...except dragons.

In retrospect, I may...not have handled that situation correctly. The only thing I had in common with them was that we both disliked the Empire's presence in Skyrim. I had no desire to be Annabelle, Stormcloak Warrior Princess at the moment. There was the fact a dragon barely saved me from having my head separated from my body, a legend that was just that...a LEGEND. I can only imagine those monsters under my bed I thought about when I was a child were going to pay me a visit back in the Sleeping Giant Inn if the "legend coming true" nonsense kept up!

And the reason I almost had my head separated from my body was because of these Stormcloaks!

Why in Tamriel I would join a group that guaranteed me to have more enemies? My father, the Dark Brotherhood, now the Imperials and a dragon...it was too much. I paced around my room at the inn. My head spun, I was sweating, I could barely sleep and that stupid bard said my eyes were red as a sunset sky. I literally had to reevaluate everything. I wasn't ready after all. I wasn't even close to being almost ready.

I was a stranger in a strange land. Back in High Rock, I knew every corner of Evermore. I could find any room in my house with my eyes closed. I could tell if a particular person was in a room by their scent. We walked on the mountain trail without a guide. Claire and I knew exactly where to jump off that cliff over the lake and not get hurt.

In Skyrim? I didn't know anything. I picked flowers that I didn't recognize. There were cities I'd never heard of along with Jarls and High Kings instead of Counts, Dukes, and regular kings. The Nords were like giants. The mountains felt they went into the heavens. Then there was the dragon that came out of my nightmares. Skyrim felt like a children's story gone horribly wrong.

One of the smallest lands in Tamriel...and it might as well have been Akavir. As I tried to fall asleep, I remembered best friend Claire's mother told me a very important thing when I was a child.

"Sweet thing, if you ever fall for an Altmer, I will shove an elven sword where the gods can't see."

...I remembered Claire's mother told me another very important thing.

"If you have a problem, first, ask how it happened and answer it."

In the town I wanted to escape, in Delphine's rundown inn, on the old warm bed, I could only think about the "how" of it all.

All my dreams: a home, a good spouse, children, an apple tree...they were all gone because my father wasn't the man he claimed. He worked for the Count's estate, an honorable job. He was the assistant of the Arcanist, the pinnacle of any mage user in our city. The old Arcanist, Cato, accidentally blew himself up during the 4E 197th Saturnalia festival's "light show". The Count appointed a new Arcanist from within. Soren Swyn was his name, the second youngest son of the Count. My father hated that man.

Imagine...the audacity of having to answer to someone barely older than twenty four summers! The old man bristled at the idea of calling that "callous upstart" by a proper name was just irritating, epecially since the older Zirke was the better choice. Needless to say, my father's employment didn't last long.

Of course, the real reason was that he was sacked was because he needed a more eager assistant; someone who didn't mind doing the leg work. It didn't help he got someone that was easier on the eyes: me.

That was the beginning of the end of our family, though none of us realized it yet. Soren was already married and was a consummate professional. The problem? Most people would have thought a doe-eyed seventeen year old girl in striking distance of the second most attractive man in Evermore was the reason I suddenly found mother and myself running for our lives.

Most people would have been wrong.

No, the truth was even more horrifying than that. It was ironic, given the...mansion incident...that Soren actually saved my life that night. He didn't blame me for what happened. If Mother hadn't warned him about...

The dream ended and my eyes opened once I heard a knock at the door.

"Are you feeling better?" said a voice. It was Gerdur. I popped up from my slumber.

To the left of my bed were two empty potion containers. It then hit me why I didn't feel so good the previous night. I was experimenting with some of the flowers I had picked on Delphine's alchemy stand. I must have mixed up something fierce because as I looked down at my robes, I realized I'd been sweating all night. All my doubt and nervous thoughts about my future certainly didn't help. Not to mention they smelled awful. Helgen's blood and gore were caked on along with all my sweat from last night.

"By all the..." I said in total shock. It amazed me that I didn't even think about any of this the previous day.

"Is everything alright?" Gerder asked, hearing me.

"Yes...um, do you have any place I can clean these robes of mine? I had a bit of a rough night."

"I can imagine. You were sweating like you were in the desert." I heard.

"I know what that feels like actually. Anyway, I've had these since Helgen. Blood, dirt and sweat are not a good combination."

"I can clean them for you. Don't worry about it."

"Yes, I'm going to...I'm going to change. Thanks for the...laundering offer."

I wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible; however, that wasn't to be. I had a spare set of tunics in my bag, so I changed out of the soaked mage robes and handed them to Gerdur through the cracked door. I felt horrible. I'd been rather...rude and bizarre since my initial meeting with the woman. I quickly smeared on some improvised perfume I mixed up, a recipe my mother taught me years ago.

"I noticed you were squirming around like a skeever yesterday. I'd thought maybe you'd come down with something. You were rather..." Girdur stopped herself.

"Irritable?" I replied through the door.

"Yes, exactly that."

I opened the door wearing a yellowish tunic I...'borrowed' from one of the dead villagers' closets in Helgen. "Well, my apologies."

"Anyway, are you heading to Whiterun?" she asked. My eyes bulged.

"Oh right..."

The day prior, Gerdur wanted me to go to Riverwood and warn the Jarl there about the dragon threat. I told her I would as soon as I got my bearings around town and the general area.

Sometime before my awful night, I realized one critical thing. I was...a little broke. I didn't have much money before I got to Skyrim anyway, but I had almost nothing after Helgen save about a 100 Septims. Gerdur offered me a few things I could take...one of them was a gold necklace. I asked her why she was giving it to me and she said she wasn't one for jewelry. I needed the coin though.

One thing I quickly learned was that this place had no shortage of problems to solve for gold. I sold the necklace, a few other things Gerdur let me have, the bits of loot I'd gotten from Helgen. I bought spellbooks listing the incantations of Fury and Frostbite to compliment the Shock one I found in Helgen. I also had made a few healing potions.

I bought my supplies at the Riverwood Trader. The shopkeep, Lucan Valerius, told me that thieves had stolen his prized heirloom...a Golden Claw. The bandits had retreated to an old ruin called Bleak Falls Barrow, that place everyone in the town said was haunted. Of course, Camilla, his sister, said it wasn't actually an heirloom...just something her brother found somewhere. I thought he probably stole it. Camilla agreed. She showed me how to get there and told me a little bit about the surrounding area.

She was the kind of person who wanted to do things herself. Her brother kept protesting about her wanting to take action, and I respected her resolve. She was an Imperial, but really didn't care about the war. Suddenly, I didn't want to leave the town in such a hurry. There were good people here...they didn't deserve Helgen's fate.

Maybe Helgen didn't deserve it after all, I came to think. Here I was one day wanting to leave as fast as I entered. Once I did what I should have done the day before...

Camilla was just trying to get by with her brother and their shop. I liked Camilla from the moment I met her; and I wasn't the only one. There was some silly love triangle going on between that bard and one of the millworkers. I could imagine what they'd feel if someone else came in and stole her away...and I'd laugh.

However, I told the siblings it would have to wait. The Dragon threat seemed...a little more important. Gerdur told me Whiterun was much larger and more diverse than Helgen. The people, including the Jarl, there were mostly neutral on loyalties between Imperials and Stormcloaks; exactly the kind of people that needed to be warned about a giant, fire-breathing monster.

As for seeking out the Brotherhood and the College of Winterhold...there was nothing but doubt. I wasn't lying when I said I needed to get my bearings. I came here to complete the task my mother and I set out to do. I was alone and had a mission the size of Nirn. The only way I was going to get the knowledge I needed was to venture out into the brave new world.

With that in mind, I did a little exploring around the village. I ran into some wolves along the way. I wasn't great with illusion magic, but the Fury spell provided a great amount of amusement when I got one wolf to kill the other. My own tinkling laugh surprised me though, once I burned the other wolf. I certainly couldn't wait to find they bandit lair the Jarl wanted taken down. Afterwards, I took the wolf pelt back to Alvor, the smith, and wanted to exchange the pelts for a simple sword. Alvor looked at me like I told him the sky was falling.

"Umm...I don't think a sword's for you. Someone slight of build might not be able to handle it effectively. Or height-challenged or..."

I put my hands on my hips. "Yes. Thanks for that."

He produced a small iron blade from the table. "I think you might want this. Pulls out and hides easily and it's has more uses than a sword."

I grabbed the dagger from him and stepped back. I swung the blade around like a drunkard for a moment. To be honest, I just wasn't that good at martial combat. I stopped when he began to speak again.

"Remember, switching to your dagger is faster than recharging."

My face fell flat. I looked away and shook my head.

"Really? Thanks for that piece of _helpful_ information." I said with as much sarcastic venom as I could muster.

I swung the blade around again, this time a little slower as I tried to feel the weight of it.

Alvor actually stopped me and kindly took the blade from me, "Actually, maybe you shouldn't use a blade at all."

I was furious. The nerve of this man! I then noticed there was a similar looking iron-made dagger on the table near the leather rack. Alvor walked back to the small collection of blades on the opposing table. The look of shock on his face as he turned around to the sound of the dagger sticking out of the wall beside him. Never expected me to actually _throw_ it at the wall! I then took the other one back from him as I gave him the pelts.

"I'll take it. Good day sir." I said in the kindest, sweetest voice I could. I almost skipped away.

I walked back to Gerdur's house once I was done with all the errands. Gerdur was on her way back to the mill when I entered the house. The mage robes were finally dry, so she handed them back to me.

I had my head down for a moment, then looked straight at her. Maybe last night was all that guilt piled on top of the sadness, loneliness and anger. The feelings I had since we were forced to leave Evermore all came out in a day. The desperation I had as I helped the Stormcloaks slay their way to freedom, as I burned anything in my path...

"Umm...listen, I know I haven't been the greatest guest but...thank you." I struggled out. Gerdur looked right at me.

"Don't worry about it. I know it's not easy being somewhere so many leagues from home; thrown into something you don't understand."

I sighed. Gerdur began to walk away, "Just stick to the roads and watch out for the Imperials. Once you get to Whiterun proper, you should be fine. You may not have wanted to be involved in this war...but the Imperials don't care. You know that all too well."

_Damn her._ She was right. Didn't matter though.

That dumb husband and annoying kid of hers were outside, so she left me alone. I changed into the robes, they were nice and warm and I would have to remember such an idea for the colder parts of Skyrim. I walked outside, then it hit me like a stone. I looked into the distance and everything I felt the previous night came back. I shook my head and sat down on the ground. I held my head in my hands, then I lifted my head, sighed and said to myself...

"How in Oblivion am I going to do this?"

"What? Go to Whiterun? It's simple, silly girl." a familiar man's voice said with a laugh. I looked up and saw the grizzled Stormcloak renegade himself, "You just follow the road."

"Thank you for the blatantly obvious, Ralof." I said as the man of the hour strolled up to my side, "For a wanted man, you sure forgot how to hide."

Ralof laughed again and leaned against the wood supporting the house's deck.

"I'm sure you'd know all about that. You never told me where you ran away from. You some princess escaping assassins?"

"Half right." I replied.

"Well, I can understand that...you don't have the disposition of a princess, that's for certain!" Ralof replied, laughing. However, his voice became serious again, "Whatever it was you did, I'm not judging you."

All the magical energy that flowed through my body couldn't conjure enough heat to match the anger I felt that short moment.

"I did nothing to be judged for!" I hissed back at him. I almost jumped off the ground when I faced him. Ralof didn't back away, but his face dropped a bit, but he quickly returned to that slightly stoic way he had about him.

Damn him, I thought. I felt my eyes water. The only way to fight it was to get angry. Ralof didn't know! The secrets I couldn't tell him or anyone. He had no idea what I'd been through, what my father did to me, what those men did to me in that prison for, what they did to all those girls who entered that farce of a...tournament.

I was being chased by a man who'd lied to me and mother for our entire lives. Him and his entire Rose Coterie were once just corrupt, greedy men and women of the nobility...now they were consumed by madness.

Ralos relaxed a bit, then put on a rare serious tone, "Well, I'll just say this. When I joined the Stormcloaks, there were a few of in a camp just outside Riften. Raw recruits, we were; some boys, a few ex-Legion, and a mill worker from Mixwater. I was with old friend of mine, Gunjar. The commander walked in front of us and told us where we were going. But the last thing he said was, 'Every battle begins with the first steps.' So you take that step, and you keep taking them...until you look up and you find yourself right where you needed to be."

I actually laughed. I wasn't expecting him to be so introspective.

"I guess. I just wonder why everything is so damn big in this land?!" I said, confused even at my own words, "I feel like a tiny fish in the ocean."

Ralof put his hand on my shoulder for a bit, "Well, we Nords have a thing for size. But don't worry...Ulfric once said that even the smallest of us can move mountains."

Ralof then walked inside. I wasn't sure if he was right about the latter. However, he was right about the former. I had to get moving. There was much to do and these matters wouldn't do themselves. I packed up my new spellbooks, potions, my green apples, my shiny dagger and the yellow tunic. I walked out into the afternoon air, took one step after the other, and found myself on the road to Whiterun.

That is, until someone ran up to me with a letter in hand...

Next: Chapter 3: The Merchant of Whiterun


	3. The Merchant of Whiterun

Chapter 3: The Merchant of Whiterun

I didn't know where he came from. I just crossed the bridge when I heard the sound of rapid footsteps. I quickly turned and a young Nord came to a sudden full stop right in front of me. He gasped and heaved for a moment, then he took out a potion with green liquid and drank it down. He threw the potion bottle away and finally presented a letter with an unmarked seal on it.

"I have a delivery for you. Your eyes only." he said...oddly, he didn't even sound like he was out of breath. It had to have been a vitality potion he drank. They were known for giving the consumer great bursts of energy. Such a thing was an obvious boon to a courier; but this couldn't have been a usual occurrence. I was a courier for a bit when I was living in Hammerfell after fleeing home. Before I could even ask who sent it, he took off again at full speed. I called out to him and he turned.

"Do you know who gave this to you?!" I shouted. The young man turned around and humped his shoulders.

"I'm not sure. He was a hooded man, but he sounded like a Redguard probably."

The courier ran off towards Riverwood then. My eye twitched a little, then I opened the sealed letter.

_If you are reading this, then you are alive and there is yet hope I can find you. I cannot divulge my identity in this letter, but I am one of your mother's old allies. I too am being hunted by the Rose Coterie, but I have information that will save your life. Your father's group is trying to dig their claws into Skyrim, but you should be safe in Whiterun for now. I will contact you again soon._

_Stay alive._

_A Friend_

I wondered how this individual knew I was even in Riverwood. If a Redguard knew Sophia...then it made sense. The Coterie always left correspondence with their unique seal; however, in some cases, their operatives had forgotten to burn the letters. He had to be someone mother trusted, because he didn't use our names. Mother didn't really talk about her own past much. All I knew was that she worked for the Imperial Legion once. Given her talents, it must have been something clandestine. Whoever this man was knew about the Rose.

The Rose Coterie, that is. The confederation of noble houses that overthrew House Swyn back in Evermore. They controlled my homeland now. There was no confirmation that all the members of House Swyn had been killed the infamous "Mansion Incident", however. I knew of only two, but that wasn't the reason I was hunted. Evermore fell into chaos under the new Count's rule.

After I walked down the road, I torched a few wolves that came out of the bushes. As I got to the hill that led down into Whiterun, I picked some mushrooms off the side of a tree. When I looked in my bag, I remembered I had some purple flowers. I choked a little and I quickly closed it.

_Claire always loved purple flowers. _I didn't cry this time though. I was done grieving months ago. I kept running, I wanted to forget about it all.

It was funny that the unknown man said Whiterun was a safe place. Why? I was halfway to Whiterun. To the left was some kind of meadery, as I understood it. I'd heard some commotion up the road and I went to investigate, when I accosted by three Imperial soldiers. They were searching for a Stormcloak prisoner that had run off when they were attacked by bandits. I guessed the escapee was from Helgen. That had to be embarrassing for the Empire, Ulfric Stormcloak, their prized prisoner, escaping due to a legend come to life.

"Wait, wasn't she from Helgen too?" one of them said. My mouth was agape.

I started to run, but they drew their swords and ordered I surrender. With the realization that this adventure of mine was about end a second time, I panicked. I drew forth my illusory powers and hit one of the Imperials. It didn't do anything Initially, except annoy the guard...then, he started screaming. The other two turned to him and I swear to Julianos, the afflicted guard ran the middle soldier through. I couldn't believe it. My hands were shaking.

Then all of the sudden, a ragged Nord leaped from the bushes and tackled one of the surviving guards.

"Victory or Sovengarde!" he shouted.

It seemed the prisoner they'd been looking for was waiting in ambush. He quickly picked up the sword the dead soldier had dropped, stabbed the motionless, shocked soldier in the back...and then took _his_ sword and threw into the neck of the man I'd enchanted! As he choked, stumbled, bled and eventually fell and rolled hilariously down the hill into the trees, he faced me with a smile. I was speechless. It was impressive work.

"Thanks friend. Thought I was a goner there." the man said. "Never thought I'd see you again!"

I thought I recognized him from Helgen, but it wasn't quite clear. He did recognize me though.

"Uh...you're welcome."

"No one's around, help me with these." he said, looting the first corpse.

"They're still looking for Helgen escapees, right?" I said, looting the second corpse, but my head jerked around as I watched for any other guard members around. I found only a pouch of coins and apparently what was a better grade dagger made of steel.

We drug the bodies off the road and they rolled down into the woods. The former prisoner answered me.

"Not really; I just had some...misfortune just north of Whiterun, they were taking me along the east road when some bandits from White River Watch attacked. I made my escape in the confusion. I'm heading back north to Windhelm, you should come with me...we could really use someone like..."

"No thanks. I've got business in Whiterun. Wait, you said they came from White River Watch? I believe..." I said, whipping out a piece of paper, "...I have a bounty available over there."

I remembered Orgnar, the barkeep in Riverwood, gave me the Jarl's letter wanting them wiped out. I wasn't even sure where it was at the time. However, I needed some valuable practice with my new spells...and this White River, was where it would happen.

"Yes. It's just over there." he said, pointing up the hill, "They killed two of the guards but didn't go in since I managed to get away. So, if anyone asks...these poor Legion soldiers met their end due to bandits that..."

"...I tracked down and eliminated." I concluded.

"Anyway, good luck and may Talos watch over us both."

As he walked off, I felt a bit guilty about the Imperials...but they were going to arrest me. I'd been imprisoned twice in my life. I couldn't really blame anyone for the second, except that damn Legion woman...I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I took off running towards White River Watch. I wanted to forget the first time I was imprisoned, but it was a festering wound that I never fully recovered from. I still bore the scars. I wanted to make fun of everything, but I couldn't block out the memories of a year ago.

I did nothing wrong. I broke no law. I killed no one. All I did was lose a tournament. And my father just watched as I was dragged away. Forty-seven days. Forty-seven days of an almost endless nightmare. All the things I ever did since then, I did to forget the horror. It worked..._sometimes_.

White River Watch wasn't much of a destination. When I got there, there were two dead bandits, a man and woman, and a dead Imperial soldier. I found a diary on the man's body.

Reading it, I learned the bandit's boss seemed to take issue with this Rodulf, the dead bandit male outside. Apparently he was taking advantage of the bandit's poor uncle. I snuck in and there was an older man in the cave at a table. He looked straight at the cave wall, which was odd because he was the watchman.

"Rodulf? Is that you?" he said. He was blind.

"Uh...yeah." I said in my best masculine voice.

"Boss was looking for you. Said he'd be at the summit. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

I walked up to him and he didn't move or react to my footsteps at all. I even got to within touching distance and saw he had a book in front of him. The pages were blank. That proved it. These bandits were dumber than rocks. I actually felt sorry for the poor guy.

What I found was comical was the effect my new-found spell had on the enemy. Watching three bandits who, I assumed, were friends at some point, fighting it out among themselves was hysterical. The people who robbed and killed people for a living suddenly killing each other, while I looted their stuff, was pure irony.

The humor reached new heights when I quietly came across two bandits who were discussing a wolf they had in the cage. The man wondered if it could be trained. I wondered why there was a chain lever right in front of where I was crouched. Flush with courage and confidence I put my Fear spell in my left hand, then pulled the chain. The chain released the wolf's cage door!

The man started talking, "I just hope it doesn't get out and start biting me in the ass. Or the throat. That would be bad...by Talos! He's actually biting me in the ass! Not the..!"

I looked up and quickly hit a bandit who was up higher in the cave with the Fury spell. She jumped down and broke both her legs before I finished them all off with my hands filled with Fire. Then I realized that...may have not been the best solution. I needed "sufficient, tangible proof of the kill" by the bounty order. Obviously, I couldn't burn their leader. Nords were resistant to ice. That only left my Shock and Fury spells...and if he was alone, then Fury wouldn't do much.

There were some chests where I found some useful items, but no potions that could restore magic pool. I found a hunting bow, arrows, and some interesting books as well. I quietly made my way out to the summit, which led out from a small cave exit, and saw the bandit's leader. I readied the shock spells, but he must have heard me charge up my spell, because he was suddenly bearing down on me!

A sustained burst of magic may not have been enough to bring him down and I was unarmored against a greatsword wielding maniac. I realized I might have made a mistake. But his attacks were slow as he swung around the massive sword. Even as a Nord, big weapons were big weapons. I ran away form him, blasting him with the Shock magic when I could, and I easily dodged his first two attacks. The third was a damn close one as he cleaved the table in half. He was quite resilient.

I was near the edge of the mountain and I had to do something fast. I backed up, prepared to dodge and...and tripped on a rock! I quickly tried to move and I got my legs out of the way just in time, as the momentum of the attack carried him clean over the cliff!

He hit a rock outcropping with a bloody thud, then just slid all the way to the bottom. I let out a huge sigh of relief and sat down on the ground. Thank Julianos my mother wasn't there. She'd have given me quite the tongue lashing for going into such a place alone. But she said, a bad idea that works is never a bad idea. I just hoped there was enough of him left to claim the bounty.

After taking a rather unique looking iron sword from the chest of valuables the Bandit Leader had, as well as the journal he kept, I ran down to the bottom of the mountain as fast as I could. After clearing up some confusion with a local guardsman, I headed into Whiterun. He was rather taken aback after a body almost landed on him. I told him that I wanted to claim his bounty and the guard let me search him...or what was left of him. The armor was crushed; he was nothing but meat. His face was...well, nevermind about the face. The only thing that did survive, oddly...was a set of gauntlets. I could sense the enchantments on them. They'd fetch a nice price, I thought. I took all the "evidence" and put it in a small bag I'd looted form inside the cave.

"Pretty impressive wiping out those bandits," the guard said, "One of the guards found three Imperial soldiers dead in the woods. Probably their doing."

"Yeah...yeah, exactly that. Well, I need to go. Thank you for the help and I promise I'll be a little more careful next time." I said and walked away from as quickly as I could. However, I'd forgotten one thing. I felt horrible at that point. I turned to the guard.

"Oh, in that cave, there's an old blind man that needs some help!" I shouted. Then I continued to put distance between me and him.

It was a few hours until sunset and I had no idea what to expect when I entered the city. As I walked along the final stretch of flowery road to Whiterun, I remembered I often thought of Evermore. I missed home so much, but how could they miss us? Everything we built as a family was destroyed. I remembered seeing our home, the last embers fading and mother dragging me away.

Whiterun didn't look that impressive from the outside. The walls were old. They weren't like Evermore's high and coral-colored battlements. It was beautiful outside the city though. There were a group of mercenary-like individuals who were walking from a farm; why, I couldn't tell. I kept my distance though. There were some Khajit merchants who'd set up shop. I did some trading with them, sold off some of the loot from White River. Apparently, this Ri'saad, was the leader or one of the leaders of a group of caravans who were traveling Skyrim. We traded a few stories of our homelands. Eventually, he just wanted to stop talking about Elsweyr and I wanted to stop talking about High Rock. We both missed home.

The guard at the gates wanted to know why I was there. The dragons had made them on edge. I didn't see the problem initially...the city looked strong. I told them I had news from Helgen. They bought it and they let me in.

I knew something was up when I walked into the city. There was something odd and familiar about Whiterun. The houses were sturdy and quaint, wooden and strong. Gray, blue, green and brown colors were the order of the place. The streets were cobbled and uneven. The grass grew out a little between the stones. The homes had statues of dragon heads on their roofs. Ironic.

However, it all felt like I walked back in time. I had walked back in time to a place where I knew the places I wanted to see. Buildings were in different places, the outlying farms were closer to the city, but Whiterun welcomed me home. The city was warm and inviting. Whiterun was home for so many; yet for me, home was so far away...and right in the middle of Skyrim.

I walked up two, maybe three flights of stairs to Dragonsreach. It didn't look as impressive as Gerdur said it was. I remembered the captivating blue and white Chateau Seraphine, the grand estate of Aries Swyn, the Count's eldest son. It was the most beautiful, massive place I'd ever seen. Two years before I wound up in Skyrim, I was brought to that place as a contestant in the Tournament of Blue Roses along with eleven other women.

I turned to my father and said, "If I win this, we're all going to live here." A year later, me and mother...accidentally-on-purposely...burned that place to the ground. I shook my head as I got to the door. I didn't want to remember that day anymore. The point was, Dragonsreach had nothing on Chateau Seraphine.

I remember mother telling me a little about those dragon legends when I was little. They said that dragons were the size of buildings and had enslaved humanity long ago. I didn't believe her. I should have. I didn't make it ten steps in before a leather armor wielding Dumner drew her sword and walked towards me. I quickly remembered that nobility and royalty were areas I was terrible at worst, middling at best. She asked me what I was doing there.

"Umm...uh, well, Gerdur in Riverwood asked me to come here. They're requesting aid for their village...you know, because there's, I don't know if you've been following the rumors but, I saw a giant dragon attack Helgen and..."

"You were at Helgen!?" the Dumner said. She sheathed her sword and I actually breathed again. "Come with me. The Jarl will want to hear this personally."

The Jarl was a big man, like all Nords were, but he was much different than any ruler I'd seen. He slumped down in his chair, almost annoyed at the proceedings. This was a little...concerning. Gerdur had mentioned how he didn't favor either side in the war. Or perhaps he was just bored. I wasn't sure, but it didn't feel good. Next to him was a straight faced balding Imperial. He asked me if I was at Helgen. I wasn't sure how to answer at that point. I knew what had happened, but I couldn't get my mind to make my mouth say the words I wanted.

"Yes. I saw it, it looked right at me. It was big...and black...and it destroyed...everything. Just...every...where. Fire, blood, arms, legs, eye..balls...just carnage. I saw it fly this way, but..."

It was amazing how I kept finding more ways to embarrass myself in front of important people: Soren, Count Sywn, Aries, Salah, Octavian, General Tullius, and finally Jarl Balgruuf. To my shock though, it seems I only confirmed what they already knew. The Imperial, Proventus, turned towards the Jarl to speak. I noticed he was eying me up and down, unimpressed with me. I didn't blame him; I did look silly trying to talk. The man looked like a bald squirrel to be honest. Strangely though, when the Jarl asked me to accompany him to his court wizard, he mentioned something about rumors of dragons.

_Rumors_, I scoffed. I met with the elf. He wanted me to go into Bleak Falls Barrow to recover something known as a Dragonstone. It was apparently, a map that told where ancient dragons were buried. I asked him about the Dragon War. I didn't know was that the Nord ruins were more than likely temples dedicated to the Dragons. If the they were indeed revered as gods, whatever inside was dangerous indeed.

The odd thing was how quickly everything had changed. It happened so fast I didn't even realize it. Just two days before, I was a prisoner. As I walked out the wizard's study, I had important jobs for the Jarl of Skyrim! Then I realized...

"Oh, I almost forgot!" I walked back to Proventus, the steward, "I'm come to claim the bounty on White River Watch. Here's the bounty letter, umm...a finger...two letters, an ear, a journal, a bloody iron sword, some wolf hair...their leader's body is on the road right around the bend umm..."

"Oh yes...um...that'll do." Proventus said, recoiling a bit, but regaining his composure, "You have done this city a great service. Here's your reward. And take this, the Jarl wanted to personally reward you for the information on the dragon."

He produced a giant greatsword that was taller than I was.

"Umm..thank you." I replied.

_What am I going to do with this thing!?_

I sold the greatsword as quickly as I could. Of course, I had to carry the damn thing down to the Imperial who ran Warmaiden's, the blacksmith shop. Turned out she was the daughter of the steward...a smug woman at that.

It was getting late and I was extremely tired from walking, slaying bandits, inadvertently getting Legion soldiers killed, walking, and carrying greatswords. I walked up to the counter and rented a room for the night. Along the way to my room, I saw a Redguard woman with graying, brown hair. The other was a bard who sung some song called "Ragnar the Red", which would have been nice to sit down and hear if I hadn't already heard Sven sing the damn song back in Riverwood! To make matters worse, my room was right above the main floor. I had it for the day, so I plugged my ears and fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up and a had a breakfast of two apples, some fish and a light ale. I didn't say much to Hulda, the owner of the inn apart from a few words of cordiality. I paid for the meal, then walked out the Bannered Mare and into the market. The first thing I needed to do was not repeat the same mistake I made in White River Watch against a heavily armored foe. This Bleak Falls Barrow was obviously a step up from a bandit lair. I needed assistance, but I didn't have much money to hire a sword; most of it went to potions, spells and a new pair of shoes. Hulda told me the going rate was five hundred Septims. It wasn't enough to have a hired sword to help me, but I had to have one who knew Whiterun Hold very well. Then I remembered the wood elf in Riverwood. He knew the land very well and I talked to him about that silly love triangle he had with Camilla. And since Camilla already showed me how to get to Bleak Falls anyway...

I was looking at one of the stalls when I suddenly looked to my right...and saw another woman near me.

Her hair was a red and brown; the same length as mine and much more perfect. There was a slight smile on those pinkish lips. Her eyes, brown and gold, were focused on everything. She was only about an arms length from me. I didn't move from her, but my eyes watched.

She was peerless. Her dress was blue, but it was stitched together. She'd altered the style so that some leg would show, along with the leather boots. The dress neck was down for the same reason she'd altered the dress. The woman was the only one who dressed for showmanship.

The Nord owned the merchant square and was invisible at the same time. However, she was not so invisible, however, when I quickly looked away to avoid her gaze. I was a little too late. We were both looking at jewelry some old woman was selling. The Nord let out a tiny laugh.

"You know what's odd? I've noticed that no one ever negotiates for anything here. They just pay whatever price the merchant offers. No wonder this city is flush with gold. It's a seller's market."

My eyebrows arched. I quickly turned in surprise, not expecting such words to leave the lips of a Nord. She had a full foot on me, but for the first time in Skyrim, I didn't feel as small. She still made me slightly nervous...initially.

"I can tell you're new here. I know everyone in this city."

Her voice didn't _seem_ condescending. Something calmed me and I relaxed my stance a little.

"If I placed a golden sapphire necklace here and a grand soul gem here and charged the same amount for them, which would you buy?" she asked me.

"The soul gem." I answered. I knew about soul gems, of course; but that wasn't the point. The point was, I answered without fumbling my words. She was actually asking me intelligent questions!

"But what if that necklace had an enchantment that resisted against flame...what would you pay more to have?"

"The necklace." I answered. It was like she was reading my mind. I wasn't sure if she was a expert at anything, but I knew one thing. She knew about specific magical enchantments. And of course, I would pick the necklace. As much as I liked fire magic and how common it was, protection against flame was obviously the smarter choice.

"See, you're smart. You realize that the soul gem has one thing over the necklace...it has the potential for use in more practical matters. It's guaranteed and so is the enchanted necklace has more use than that. It's guaranteed and it's constant. Now, if a man bought me a necklace, I'm not assuming anything unless there's some kind of emotional connection."

"What if a woman bought you that thing?" I asked. I didn't even know why I asked that. It just came out like I'd thought of it long before I even heard the statement. But, it only hit me a moment after how bizarre such a response would be to any other woman! The fear came back.

"That would be rare. But, again...emotional connection and all. I am a woman of...experimental taste."

I laughed. I couldn't believe it myself. "Ah...I see. I guess it's about what value you place on it." I said.

"Everything is about value." she replied.

I finally turned and faced her. She turned and extended her hand.

"Ysolda." she said. I shook her hand. Her touch...I started shaking a little inside. However, it was more of a rush of blood than fear. I quickly calmed myself down. I simply exhaled.

"Annabelle. Pleasure." I said, smile on my face. It almost surprised me. It was a different kind of smile though. Fear melted away. I felt...normal again. I wondered though, why wasn't she doing the selling? In Dragonstar, the best merchants usually dressed the best. Why wasn't she on the other side of the stalls? We walked down to another stall where a Bosmer was selling a variety of game he'd hunted. The Nord purchased some raw beef and began to talk.

"This is what I do, study the merchants of this city. I want to learn their secrets. When I get some more coin, I'm going to buy that tavern over there. My goal is to be the best merchant in Whiterun. I told my parents I would before they died."

The Bosmer put the beef into a basket Ysolda carried.

Ambition. "So that's why you're not on the other side."

Her response was sharp. "Don't mistake that for lazyness. I do a lot of trading with the Khajit caravans. Not many people in this city want to deal with them."

"Why?" Ysolda scoffed.

"Because no one trusts them. Everyone looks at one of them and sees a thief or a pickpocket. They have a lot of talents no one knows about." she said, her voice angry.

Then she turned towards me again and her mood changed back to normal, "My dad taught me that you had to be good at three things to succeed in life. For me, it's observation, negotiation, and calculation...at least, that's what someone told me once. What about you? What three things are you good at?"

That caught me off guard. "Um...I'm good at lighting people on fire."

Ysolda burst into laughter. She stopped when the Bosmer began looking at her strange. She walked and I followed her to the well. She turned, set the basket down on the ground, set her hands on the well, leaned back on it and crossed her left leg in front of her right.

"And the other two?"

The other two. I knew what they were, but as I responded, "I really can't discuss it openly."

She straightened herself, picked up the basket and walked towards me. The smile she had was more pronounced. Her voice softened a little. I noticed she'd leaned in much closer than she was last time. She smelled like berries.

"Ah, you want to make me earn it then. Smart woman. Me and the woman over there," she said pointing at a longer, black-haired Nord woman who operated a fruit and vegetables stand across from us, "we're going to the Bannered Mare tonight. Come with. Drinks. Music. I'll not have it said that I didn't show a new traveler a good time."

I didn't hesitate.

"Done." My answer was flat, but sufficient.

"Just one warning though...watch out for that bard Mikael. He's...quite the windbag about his imaginary conquests of us women."

I thought I smiled when I said that, but I wasn't sure. I know she did though...or maybe it was because I smiled when saw she did. With her though, it was a genuine smile. It stayed when she left, only vanishing when she finally turned her head in the direction she walked. There was no concern about what she said before about that bard. I drew a deep breath and let it out; I almost lost my footing. My mouth was open and I did not question my behavior. I weighted like the wind. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't stuttering the entire time I talked to her. Free, loose...happy. That was something foreign to me until that moment, even when it was familiar.

For the first time in a year and a half, I actually felt truly happy. In a moment after that thought, I was almost knocked to the ground. My alchemy component bag fell to the ground, or was it knocked off? I couldn't tell. Arms around my shoulders and I felt myself face to face with a young Redguard man. He had my bag in his hand. He quickly spoke before I could protest...given my annoyed reaction. He wore a mage robe of gray as well as a hood.

"Excuse me...my apologies." he said, handing me the bag. "Oh you dropped this by the way."

He walked up the stairs towards the center square and didn't look back. I usually didnt get upset about being bumped into, and I did not as the man walked away. Then I quickly realized the entire thing when I felt a piece of paper underneath my component bag. I quickly opened it. A single purple flower fell out the folded note. I was shocked as I held the flower in my right hand, and read the letter holding the other.

_Your mother told me to enclose this as a sign of faith. Meet me after midnight behind the Temple of Arkay._

If I had doubt before, it was gone. Whoever this man was knew had knowledge of a fact my father never did. Mother was still recovering from her terrible wounds in Bruma. She went through all this trouble for a reason. This was something I needed to know as well...and quickly.

Next: Chapter 4: Put a Spell on Me


	4. Put A Spell On Me

Chapter 4: Put a Spell on Me

It was getting late, so I walked around looking for the Redguard initially, but I gave up once I realized it would defeated the purpose of a secret meeting. I ran into another Redguard, however, having an argument with his wife about hiring mercenaries to help him recover a lost family heirloom. The woman, a bit of a salty one at that, had a good point about the man spending precious coin on a problem he may or may not be able to solve.

However, he mentioned a strange marking, a familial one that the sword had on the back of the blade. I distinctly remembered that I happened to recover an unusual looking iron sword from White River Watch, a place that was nearby Whiterun...and the Redguard had mentioned the bandit lair was nearby. If nothing else, I had to ask. I didn't originally sell it though; I figured I'd need the extra metal if my magic ran low. Turned out the sword was, in fact, the Redguard's lost sword. Amren, as I learned his name, was grateful.

He brought me back to his house and he and gave me some finer points with the sword. His wife, Saffir, wasn't very inclined to participate and spent most of the time reading. At least she managed to keep that annoying kid of hers in check. By the time we were done, darkness had fallen. Midnight, however, was a few hours away and despite my desire to learn more, my impulse told me to head for the tavern right away.

The Bannered Mare had a large fire pit in the middle, its light shone through the entire inn. Inside there were the sounds of a bard playing his lute, drinking and dancing, the smell of sweetrolls and apples, mead and fire. There was a young woman talking to another man as I entered. She had grayish hair, but was probably only a few years older than me. It had that same feel as I entered into the town, warm...inviting. There was not that out-of-place feeling as I walked to the bartender and ordered a room for the night. She told me where it was, and then I turned at the sound of a sweet voice, a hand waving me over and that familiar, friendly smile. The entire thing was odd. Something stirred in me and I balked at the idea that you can never go home again...

"Over here!" Ysolda said. I walked over to the table where both she and the woman she spoke of eariler say. Of us three, this long, black haired lady was the oldest and tallest. Not the best dressed of course, considering she wore the farmer's tunics she had during market hours; understandable, though.

"Carlotta. Annabelle and in reverse." said Ysolda introducing us. She simply nodded her head and I did in return.

Carlotta began, "I know Ysolda pretty well. She's a good friend. So, friend…what brings you to Whiterun?"

"Same thing as everyone else…I'm just the average Breton trying to make it in a tough life."

Ysolda laughed. I repeated what I'd said back in my mind to see how fake it sounded.

"Liar." She said under her breath. I couldn't be mad about her sniffing me out.

We talked about quite a few things, the civil war, the dragon "rumors", general Skyrim comings and goings, and even brought up Carlotta's daughter Mila. During our discussion over dinner, we heard the rather crisp voice of a male bard in the background. None of us had thought to bring him up until I almost revealed my own desire to have a little...me running around with the spirit of a bird. Of course, given my past, such a thing was highly unlikely.

"He's quite the talent. Mikael, I presume?" I said.

Carlotta scoffed. "He keeps boasting about how he wants to court me and isn't afraid of anyone finding out. I keep telling him to stop. Can the men of this town at least respect my simple wish to take care of my stand and watch after my little girl who needs me more than I need a new husband!"

"I'll take care of him." I said coldly.

"Just don't kill him or anything. He's not a terrible person."

"I do know who terrible men are."

"Yeah, Nazeem over there." Carlotta said, pointing to a rather smug looking Redguard in fancy robes. She burst into laughter at that point. My response quickly silenced her.

"No. No one you've met before." I said, my voice cold.

I immediately got out of my chair and walked up to Mikael. He had finished that "Ragnar the Red" song and was talking with a heavily armored Nord woman in the back. I asked him if we could talk privately and he agreed. It was too easy. I led him into my room at the inn and I could swear he was salivating as a dog would. Once I closed the door, I attempted to discuss serious business. However, I was standing right at the door; he put his hand on the door and leaned into me.

"Couldn't wait to get me alone, could you? No worries...I always have time for a beautiful woman though."

"Yeah, but that's not the reason. I hear you're chasing a lot of different women."

"Well, you can't always believe everything you hear."

"Well, Carlotta's one of them...and she'd like you to leave her alone."

"Sorry...is that jealousy? I am determined to have her as my..." he said, that is...until I interrupted him with a hand full of shocking light. I almost laughed when the bard nearly jumped out his breeches, "Whoa! Let's be reasonable here."

"Carlotta wants to be left alone. That means no courting, no flowers, no serenades, no love poems, not even a seductive look, and if you even fondle Carlotta in a dream you better wake up and pray to Stendarr for mercy. If I hear something else from her, there's going to be chestnuts roasting over an open fire." I said, showing him a hand of flame next.

Mikael backed away quickly once he saw the magical fire. He looked like a frightened mouse as he held his hands up in surrender.

"Do you goddamn understand me?" I said softer, more firm.

"Yes. I swear on my honor, I won't bother sweet Carlotta again." he finally answered.

"Thank you!" I said, returning to my sweet voice.

I almost skipped down to the table. Carlotta was deep into ale bottle at that point and playfully I touched her on the shoulder as I sat down. I grabbed a mug of ale and drank it down.

"It's done. The bard has been subdued." I said, wiping my mouth. Carlotta looked like she was about to jump on the table and start dancing.

She handed me two pouches of coins. I poured a few out of the bag and called over the server. A Redguard came over to the table, a woman with brown, graying hair. _What was it with Redguards in Whiterun?_

"Well, ladies...drinks are on me apparently." I said, bursting with joy, "Three Black-Briar meads please."

I handed the woman the coin and she walked away. However, the way she looked at me...it was like I had some odor that I didn't wash off before I got to the table. But that wasn't the case...I mean, I clearly washed that morning. I shook my head and I noticed Ysolda again. She wasn't smiling at the time, but she wasn't angry at anything. She kind of...looked away from me at first. The way the light from the fire shined, there was a shade of darkness on the right half of her face. She then looked back at me and there was that smile, only for a moment, but it was there. It was infectious.

The woman, Saadia as I came to learn later, came back to the table with our amber mead bottles in tow. I took them off and passed them around and nodded my head to her. Out of nowhere, Saadia looked annoyed.

"Now, please, no more questions." she said as she walked away.

Carlotta, Ysolda and I exchanged looks of equal confusion. We all looked around like we'd lost something.

"Wait, what?" I said.

"Does anyone feel...awkward right now?" Ysolda asked.

"Yeah. You know what? Never mind that. Ladies...a toast." Carlotta said, raising her glass. We all followed suit. "To the single women of Skyrim..." Carlotta began.

"...may we all be worthy pursuits." Ysolda finished. We tapped glasses and howled a little before we bottomed up.

We spent the next hour drinking and listening to the same three songs over and over. Although, it was both amusing and strange to watch Carlotta trying to dance and drink at the same time. Of course, what she did wasn't really dancing as much as bizarre arm-waving, as if she was conducting some kind of bardic play or something. In fact, I noticed a lot of people in the tavern did this dance. It was...disturbing. However, the hour grew late and I remembered I had a secret meeting. Realizing the task that lay in front of me, I got up from the table.

"Well, it was nice spending quality time with you girls...but I have an early start tomorrow. I'm going into a Nord ruin. Bleak Falls Barrow."

Carlotta was caught mid-swig. She gulped down the rest of the mead and started coughing a bit, when she choked out, "Really?"

"Yes."

Ysolda arched an eyebrow. "I hope you're not doing it alone, friend."

"Oh, no...I've got some help lined up. I just thought of a very creative way to resolve a love triangle...but I have to meet someone first."

As I passed the well and made my way to the Temple of Arkay, I saw blue roses in someone's garden. Purple flowers filled me with joy and a desire for love. Blue roses...they filled me with dread. I did not want to remember; but I never had any choice, did I?

The blue rose was a symbol of Evermore and every mid-year was the Festival of Blue Roses. Every man and boy would give their wife, lover, mother or friend a single blue rose to celebrate whatever bond they had. Then, every twenty five years, there was the Tournament of the Blue Rose.

It was a yearlong event, one held by the ruling house, House Swyn, to select the most beautiful and talented girl from all around the kingdom. The winner would be given the chance to marry the eldest available son of the Count and be given a title and made part of the family. Despite my initial hesitation and my...personal feelings, I accepted my nomination and was brought to the Chateau in a grand carriage pulled by white horses. I mentioned my...feelings. To be honest, there was no turning it down. There was that longing for Claire, but honestly...no girl wanted to pass up the chance for her and her family to be set up for life.

Twelve girls were selected in over the course of a month. There was me, Chere Blue-Water…that shrewish Nord, Damile Resra, my friendly rival and bardic vocalist Brahne Rosten, the youngest participant Marie Amerie...

All the girls were given gambler's chances to be crowned Lady of the Blue. The favorites were that tall, implacable instigator, Chere, and the Court's favored girl, Brahne, had the overall seeded lead.

I mean...Aries was, by all accounts, an upstanding citizen. While a bit stern, he had a kindhearted presence that reassured even my clumsy, stuttering self the first day I met him. Sure, Claire was always in my heart, but really, what girl would turn down a proposal from Aries Swyn? Would they give up the eternal splendor of the White Forest's hunting ground and Chateau Seraphine?

For me, it should have been the best thing to ever happen to me. If I lost, I wouldn't lose Claire. If I won, me and my parents would never have a worry for the rest of our lives. My father and I had our rocky moments concerning the Soren shenanigans, but I remember when he heard the news, he picked me up...his "little Buttercup", we hugged and kissed and he and spun me around like it was a grand court dance. I hadn't seen him that happy in years.

Claire was also happy for me. We were both happy. I was lost in the moment. My mother, however, was suspicious from the start.

See, she knew something was up when there were a number of arbitrary rule changes that year. And there the obvious flag, the fact she was not allowed to come. Only one chaperone and one personal friend were allowed and the judges determined who it would be; my father was chosen. In fact, only the fathers were chosen. I only had my reservations because of my feelings for Claire.

The personal friends had a special purpose: to the be the eyes and ears of the contestants. I needed Claire despite her...limitations. The tournament consisted of a series of trials every month and the last girl was eliminated. The trials were both ludicrous and practical: politics, sword arts, swimming, horseback riding, game hunting, magical duels, dice and card playing...even rock climbing! I told mother not to worry.

My father was even more convincing. "Don't worry about it, Sophie…I'll make sure everything goes smoothly. Nothing will go wrong. This could be the chance of a lifetime!"

Cryptic words indeed. I should have had my mother's instinct.

The losers were supposed to be sent home, none of them ever arrived. I didn't know this of course. There was no outside contact. In the end, it came down to Chere and me. And I lost...

However, instead of going home...I was tossed in the Chateau's prison. Along with all the other girls apparently. The entire Tournament was a sham. A lie.

"Relax. I'm not your enemy." said the voice. And from the shadows stepped a large, hooded dark-armored Redguard. I knew who it was instantly. If it had been anyone else, I would have not have recognized them, even with the magical fire's light. He still had the scar that ran down his left eye, the slick smile, and the twin blades of ebony at his side.

"S'aarke!" I said in excitement.

Silas S'aarke...the Red Prince of Dragonstar. Legend told he was the son of a legendary Redguard thief known only as the Sunset Queen and the Imperial guard captain assigned with catching her. All I knew was that he fought in the Imperial Legion during the Great War and left in disgust after the White-Gold Concordat was signed. He put his...talents to use elsewhere and established the Red Masks guild.

When we left High Rock, we stayed in the nearby mountains for a month. Once "they" got close, we joined a traveling minstrel group and fled to Hammerfell. We stayed in Dragonstar for about seven months, working on the low end of the Red Masks. Silas ran the bazaar area for his marks, taught me the basics of pickpocketing and staying in the shadows. He and mother didn't always get along, but they they always came around...eventually.

We left and crossed the border into Imperial lands. We escaped a violent skirmish with some hired killers outside Chorrol. We found a note covered in blood and almost unreadable. However, Mother believed our would-be killers may have been connected to an organization called the _Dark Brotherhood_.

They were a legendary group long ago, S'aarke told me once...but their power had waned greatly since. Mother spent years convinced the Dark Brotherhood was behind my sister's death. I remember my father found her body in the flower meadow about a hundred yards from our home. Katriana was just six...two years younger than me. She had been strangled, the city guard said, and in her hands laid a single blue rose.

S'aarke tried to use his contacts to find out more, but turned up nothing. They found us first.

"It's been a long time, little 'Belle. You know, I hear there's someone in Riften who can fix that beautiful face of yours..."

"I _really_ appreciate your beauty advice." I said sarcastically. My tone turned to concern. "Things must be bad indeed if you're here."

"True. But we have common enemies, you and I." he said. He came closer to me.

"I will be brief. You mother wrote to me asking me to investigate the link between the Dark Brotherhood and the Coterie." Silas began, softening his voice. "She and I survived a chance run in with them many years before you were born. A killing in Dragonstar, two professional assassinations both left with a blue rose in the hand of the victim."

"Just like..." I began. My sister...

"Exactly. There is no official link between the two...considering the Brotherhood only kill for money. The Coterie…they are who we need to be concerned with. They've come to Skyrim...in force." he said, his face becoming even more serious. "They are searching for something, for what, I do not know. Whatever they're up to, it's obviously a sinister one."

"So, what do I do? What if they come looking for me?"

"When you finish this business with the Jarl, take the carriage to Windhelm. Find the mining town known as Kynesgrove and we'll talk more. And whatever you do," his voice became deadly serious, "Do not chase after the Rose or the Brotherhood. Not yet."

"No promises." I replied coldly. Silas laughed.

"Well, in that case...good luck. May the gods watch over you, Annabelle."

Silas faded into the shadows with a powerful spell of invisibility.

I don't know what happened that night. For about an hour or two, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to think about anything else but my sister. I wanted to block out that pain and then...it hit me.

There was something about Ysolda that had me entranced. It was not that I thought about her all night, just once and everything was just quiet. I was confused when I woke the next morning. It felt like I wasn't even in the Bannered Mare anymore. I felt like a new person. Over the year spent away from home, I couldn't count how many sleepless, horror-filled nights I had. The entire person I was merely hid under my graceless, clumsy, and skittish appearance. Under the skin, there was nothing but pain; the pain I felt in the past and the poison in my soul. It was not just the scars I had, but all the darkness inside seeped through to the surface. And for one night, they were all silenced. There was another smile as I got out of bed.

It went away as quickly as I came about, and I didn't care. Ysolda, progress in my objective, jobs for the Jarl...my luck was turning around. I looked in the courtyard for any sign of my new friends from the previous night, but I realized I'd gotten up a little too early. I couldn't wait around though; I had work to do for the Jarl. I'd see her when I returned. With lightness in my heart I hadn't felt in nearly two years, I left the city and trekked back to Riverwood.

The morning was crisp and cool with a light breeze. I was actually pleased that the walk back to Riverwood was uneventful; if boredom had teeth, it'd be the only thing that could hurt me.

During the early summer months, Claire and I would wake up early and sneak to the White Lake. It wasn't that we were forbidden from there, Mother even joined us a few times. The simple fact, everyone wanted to go to the White Lake and buy mid-summer, it showed. No one went out past the rocks except in boats; the slaughterfish didn't attack near shore. Course, the shore became a trash hole by autumn. Some jokingly called it the Brown Lake, a crass but appropriate fall nickname for that place. My father's job at Chateau Seraphine kept him busy and sometimes we went days without seeing him. Those days, my days of sixteen and seventeen summers, those were the greatest years I knew.

Claire and I, nothing would come between us then. It was something not even blindness could take away.

She knew the distinct scent of those purple flowers, knew what they looked like, and exactly where to find them. That last day of the summer's end, when I left for my apprenticeship under Soren Sywn, she and I locked eyes one last time. She wanted to remember what I looked like before the disease took her sight completely. So I held her head to mine and I said, "I don't care if you don't remember my face. Just me."

Almost three years later, Claire died in my arms in a prison cell. Whether or not the gods put the merchant queen of Whiterun in my path was irrelevant. I'd let her go, I'd moved on...but she was not going to be a memory. There were other people who suffered at the hands of my would-be killers.

As I finally reached Riverwood and saw the Bosmer hunter I was looking for...I knew only one thing. The Dark Brotherhood, the Coterie, and father...they were all going to pay.

I knew this, but I didn't want to make myself too angry. I thought of the Nord woman again. Eventually, I calmed down again. Something about her presence calmed me every time. Why? I barely knew her. She was friendly though. I was going to find out why. I'd let Claire go a long time ago. Whatever enraptured me about Ysolda, I wondered whether or not to ride that wave until it crested; but there were more important things to do.

Riverwood was still a bit sleepy when walked towards the mill. No one was there except the very person I needed to see. Faendal had a big chin and gray skin, of sorts, and he seemed much older than he looked. His face looked full of stones and wrinkles, and behind them lay years of knowledge about this region. He had the knowledge I needed.

The moment I spoke to him he said, "Did I see you talking to Sven? That bard thinks his songs and poems are going to win him Camilla's heart. I bet he sees her only a prize."

"And you don't?" I countered.

"Hmm...I've been wondering how to appeal to Camilla's sensitive side. Actually, I have an idea. I've written up a...letter from Sven to give to Camilla. This should quickly change her opinion of that lute-playing fool."

He handed me the letter and as I quickly took it from him, my eyes bulged and squinted in sheer horror. If a man pulled something like this with me, I would have slapped him into the Second Era.

"Yikes." I said in shock. I slowly folded up the note and handed back to him, "I have a better idea."

I took him to the Sleeping Giant Inn to find Sven. Of course, I didn't tell him we were going to find Sven; he just assumed it as we walked into the place. The Sleeping Giant wasn't that impressive compared to the Bannered Mare. It felt more like a clean barn instead of an inn. The blonde haired Nord was preparing another song for the four or five guards inside. These were the soldiers the Jarl had dispatched from Whiterun. I remembered that dragon, what difference would five extra men make? But two mercenaries in a Nordic ruin? That would've made a world of difference.

"There once was a hero named Ragnar the..." Sven started. I walked up him and put my hand on the lute's strings.

"Sven, if I hear that song one more time today...I'm going kill myself."

I was serious. By then I'd heard Ragnar the Red five times in three days.

"Sorry, I didn't...wait," he said, suddenly noticing my companion, "What is HE doing here?! Did Camilla put you up to this? There's no way she's going to chose you over me!"

"Okay, listen, let's discuss this civilly..." I tried to cut in.

"All you do is sing the same three to five songs every day, you got fired from the mill for drinking on the job twice, and you still live with your mother!"

At this point, they were in each other's faces. Sven countered, "My mother is touched in the head, you heartless...twit!"

"Maybe I should I report you to the Thal..."

When I was angry...the scars on my face were painful. The sage in Dragonstar told me that. _Magical weapon wounds_, he said, _They tend to leave permanent scars. Emotion can affect them too, you know._

"HEY! Jackasses!" I shouted, separating the two. If my scars weren't showing before, they were as I silenced the entire bar. My face was on fire. "Both of you shut up and sit down!"

_Men._ They looked like frightened rabbits. I took a deep breath as both men finally came to their senses and sat back in their chairs. I ordered some mead from Delphine and said my piece.

"The Jarl of Whiterun is sending me into Bleak Falls Barrow to find this...Dragonstone thing...whatever it is. I need you boys to watch my back."

Both of them cracked smiles; Faendal was more subtle, but Sven was grinning ear to ear.

"Hmm...you know, maybe if I don't get Camilla, you and I could...you know, watch each other's backs." said Sven. I had a very good reason to never want to be with another man again. The mere thought of Sven, Faendal or even Mikael having sordid, lust-filled fantasies about me almost made me vomit. I was not exaggerating. I literally felt like harking back up the fish I had for breakfast.

I flashed Sven an obscene gesture, "Watch this."

Sven flew out of his chair.  
"Sven!" Faendal said, a welcome relief of civility. The bard sat back down. For a moment, I thought he was going to draw on me.

"What do we get out of this deal?" Sven asked. I felt some heat in my cheeks; I clenched the mug a little tighter and glared at the fool. I shook my head and wondered if his head was full of stones.

I pulled out a parchment and a pen. I asked Delphine for some ink as I noticed the bottle I swiped from White River Watch was almost empty. I began to write the terms of the deal. First rule of dealing with mercenaries, my mother said: _get it in writing._

"You know, I should have emptied my purse for that mercenary in Whiterun because I'm sure neither of you posses a single intelligent thought nor a decent thought about how to actually court a woman. Though Faendal, I'll give you credit on creativity." I said, pointing the pen at the elf. I then put on my best imitation of his voice.

"_My name is Faendal…I __have an idea...let me write a fake letter about the other guy and get some stranger to hand it to her!_"I resisted the urge to laugh, probably because my exhaustion of dealing with these two idiots outweighed the humor I would enjoy.

"The terms are this: split the gold and loot evenly. The Dragonstone and any magical items belong to me and speaking of courting a woman..." I said, dipping the pen back in the ink. "The person who kills the most enemies...gets Camilla." I said, as I finished writing the document. I pointed at Delphine. "Witness?"

"...yes." she said begrudgingly and went back to cleaning.

"Do you gentlemen agree?" I asked. There was some silence, but finally both men took the pen, signed the document, then got up and shook hands. I handed the parchment and the ink bottle to Delphine. I took a swig of mead then the bard let out a faint smile as he slumped back in the chair.

"Would be nice to get out of this village for awhile. Who knows what's in there?" Sven said.

"Dead things." Faendal replied, "What do you know about Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"Apparently, it was a temple for the ancient dragons...I think." I said.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Wait, what? Aren't you the hunting expert here?!" Sven said, worried, "Stendarr's mercy, we're all going to get killed up there."

Maybe I was wrong. Sven wasn't quite as dumb as he looked, but for the sake of saving face, I put on some bravado. "Come on boys...scared are we?"

"No...of course not!" Sven answered, defensively.

The elf scoffed and looked right at me. "Are you?"

I hesitated for a bit. That really caught me off guard. "To be honest, a little."

"That's good. You're not stupid." Faendal replied. I figured he was the smarter of the two people...or the lesser of two idiots. I snorted when he said that.

"There's very few women that are." I noticed Delphine let out a little chuckle before walking off. "Get some rest. Tomorrow morning we're setting out."

I couldn't sleep again that night. I dreamed of fire and death from a year ago. Everything was burned away. They'd burned our home and my mother's shop with the Dumner workers sleeping inside. Drozna, Maera, Qorin...

There were a lot of dark elves in our city. Most of them were fine people and my father had befriended a few as well.

I remember Drozna finding me in the attic of the shop the day after my sister died. I was hiding, afraid that someone would try to kill me. "There will always be bad people in the world," she said, trying to comfort me, "and because of that, we can't be afraid of life because we're afraid of death. The only thing that matters is what we do with the time we're alive."

My father was broken that day. He'd always insist I'd sleep in the same room with him and mother. He never wanted to let me go. I remembered it was around the time he started calling me that silly nickname: Buttercup. Eventually, the grief faded and our family's standing improved. We never wanted for anything. We weren't rich, but we were the family everyone in the countryside envied. For eight years, life was bliss. For eight years, my father actually loved me. Unbeknownst to me, all our success was tainted. My father laid down with corruption no one, not even my mother, saw coming. Oh...there were rumors, but no one believed them. Evermore was the jewel of the south. Then it all came crashing down...

I woke up with a start, shaking; my skin felt aflame. I let the cold magic I had and rode my hands over my skin. I reached over and grabbed a bottle of ale and held it, counting to thirty, then sixty. Eventually, I drank the ale and it was only slightly cold, but good enough. But I still couldn't stop shaking. I focused on that smile...Ysolda's smile. My breathing slowed. It was as if her memory had put a spell on me, a reverse-spell of Calm, one that made me docile. Peaceful and silent; eventually, I stopped shaking.

Then I heard something outside my door...a commotion. There was a sound of someone, something tearing up the bar. I walked to the door and cracked it open.

"I know you're here somewhere!" the voice said. My breath turned to quick rasps. Then it became a low hiss as my teeth clenched. I thought I recognized the face for a moment,

It was still dark, from what I could tell. The man outside, one that looked like an Orc, turned towards where I was, hiding behind the door. I had just closed it, but he had to have gotten a glimpse of _someone_ behind it. There was the rapid sound of movement...and the door collapsed on me before I could even ready my spells! I quickly crawled out and was face to face with my attacker. He was almost as surprised to see me as I was…initially. The man was, in fact, a lightly armored Orc with an unusual sword at his side. But his face...those reddish eyes. That bloodied set of pupils turned towards me as I prepared a magical defense. I knew that face.

In a moment, the sudden peace I felt faded away and everything became That face had haunted the halls of my prison a year ago. Zorian. Father and Arian wanted me alive...the other girls, dead. No witnesses. Leto...Delilah...Marcellus...Zorian...those monsters...what they did to them...

What they did to me...

Once I fully saw who he was, my face was filled with pain, my blood turned hot and my expression of shock turned into a snarl. He replied in kind. Of course he had to come after me. His face...the left side of it was burned away, compliments of me. He should have died, but he didn't. I would not make the same mistake again. Forty seven days of watching my friends die and abuse at the hands of my father's and Arian Swyn's men. What I did to him was a kindness.

"There you are! I knew that bitch of an innkeeper was lying! You can't escape us! Your soul belongs to the Queen of Shadows!" he shouted.

He didn't know. Back then, there were wards on the prison walls to keep us from casting spells. Once all the other girls died, _they_ reveled in my suffering, my loneliness He didn't know what kind of torture I could conjure up now. That flames I had was not just the new fire spell I learned.

"You and I have unfinished business."

Rage filled in the palm of my hand and my voice became monstrous.

"Don't count on it...you son of a bitch!" I spat back.

Chapter 5: The Big Fight in Bleak Falls Barrow


End file.
